


Fall on your knees

by orphan_account



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, choir boy!zayn, it wouldnt count as smut but theres kissing and grinding so yeah youve been warned, organ player!niall, thats it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-20
Updated: 2014-12-20
Packaged: 2018-03-02 09:22:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,631
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2807483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Zayn is nervous about his upcoming solo in his church's choir at the Christmas recital. Niall is a little shit. (But he's also useful and can play the organ.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fall on your knees

 

 

 

 

“Good job today boys,” the head of the choir, Mr. Hurley, tells them. “Keep it up this way and we’ll be more than ready for Christmas night.”

 

Zayn hugs his friends goodbye and goes to retrieve his belongings on the first row church bench when a hand on his shoulder stops him. Everybody stutters out except for Mr. Hurley and the organ boy.

 

“Mr. Hurley?” he asks the old man. “Is everything alright?”

 

The old man smiles. “You did very good today Zayn. I knew giving you that solo was the right choice.”

 

Zayn blushes. “Thank you sir,” he says as he flings his bag over his shoulder.

 

“You seemed a bit nervous though, didn’t you?” The man asks him, no malice in his voice, only concern.

 

Zayn swallows before he answers, the sound loud in the now almost empty church. “I was sir. I am not used to sing all by myself,” he casts his eyes down.

 

A warm laugh echoes on the wall. Zayn looks up. “You don’t have to worry boy, you’ll do great. But if you truly are concerned, I’ll let you rehearse some more. How does that sound?”

 

Zayn smiles brightly. “Amazing. Thank you very much sir.” He put his bag back on the bench along with his jacket.

 

“Alright,” the old man turns around. “Niall!” he calls at the blond boy stuffing his music sheet in his bag on the floor. “Would you mind staying a bit? One of the choir boy would like to stay to work on his solo.”

 

Zayn looks toward the other boy who can’t be much younger than he is and is met with a pair of bright blue eyes.

 

“Oh, no,” Zayn stammers, “He doesn’t have to, I don’t want to be inconvenient,” he says but Mr. Hurley stops him with a raised him.

 

“Of course he has to, how are you suppose to sing without the music,” he turns toward the organ boy - Niall - once more. “Would that be inconvenient for you Niall?” he asks with a smile but an assertive voice that leave little room for argumentation.

 

“No, of course not,” he says with a tight smile. “Even if it was, it wouldn’t matter much,” he adds quietly, muttered under his breath, probably too low for the old man to hear but it causes Zayn to be unease. He feels bad for the boy.

 

“You see?” Mr. Hurley tells Zayn. “Now, I can’t stay for a have duty in town so if you boys would please blow the candles before you leave, it’ll be very appreciated. Father Sherman should be back in a hour,” and with that, he is gone, and Zayn is left in an awkward silence with the cute organ boy.

 

“So, how long is this going to take because…” he begins and Zayn blushes. The boy has a cute accent and cute eyes and he has long fingers resting on the organ keys and Zayn is fucked.

 

“You really don’t have to stay, I don’t mind rehearsing without music,” Zayn tries to look convincing because even if the boy really is cute, he doesn’t want to be stuck with him when he clearly would rather be some place else.

 

“Uh yeah? And how are you suppose to stay in tune when you don’t even have the tune?” he replies with a cocky grin and an arched eyebrow that leaves Zayn breathless.

 

He doesn’t have a good answer so he keeps his mouth shut while the blond boy goes through his various piece of sheet music. “Which one was it anyway?”

 

“Ave Maria,” Zayn answers, voice small and dry.

“Of course,” he mutters, rolling his eyes, his fingers shifting between the sheets. “Got it.”

 

He places the music sheets in front of him, scanning the scribbles of notes as Zayn gets in place on the altar.

 

As he plays the first few notes, the sound beautiful yet intimidating in the empty church, Zayn begins to shake and sweat and _god, if he can’t do this in front of one boy how is he suppose to do it on front of every members of the parish?_

 

He starts to sing on cue, along with the melody of the organ, at the right tempo, the right lyrics at the same time and even if it sounds good, even if he’s in tune, something feels off.

 

He cuts himself off somewhere towards the end of the first verse, turns around as to not face Niall, opting to watch the flame on the candle flicker instead and breathes in deeply to try and calm down as he hears the sound of the organ comes to a stop as well.

 

“Sounds good, but you’re too nervous mate,” the voice comes from behind, nonchalant, maybe even a bit bored and as much as he finds him cute, Zayn would really rather see him leave to be able to rehearse in peace.

 

“Yeah, no shit,” he retorts, voice shaky and turns around to watch the stunned look on Niall’s face, eyes amused and smirk on his face.

 

“Never would’ve thought an angel could have such a potty mouth,” he says with a raised eyebrow, teeth sunk into his bottom lip.

 

Zayn lets out a small laugh and rolls his eyes, his body relaxing when he answers and unharmful, “oh, shut it,” towards the other boy, making him light up with laughter.

 

“Come here,” Niall tells him then, with the smallest nod of his head and a playful grin on his face. Zayn hesitates, eyeing the organ (and the boy sitting at it) suspiciously and Niall must be feeling his indecision because his grin turns even more wolfy while his voice gets all innocent when he says, “Don’t worry, I won’t bite ya,”  which earns him an unimpressed look from Zayn. “Seriously man, I have water! Your throat is probably all dry with all this singing.”

 

Which, yes, it is and water would be very appreciated since his bottle is already empty and something tells him that drinking up the holy water would just be wrong. So he makes his way down the altar to the small organ and gladly accepts the water bottle offered to him. Niall even slides a little to his right to give him some space on the organ bench.

 

“So,” Zayn begins awkwardly because he has no idea what he is supposed to do on an organ bench, in front of an actual organ, next to a pretty boy. “What’s up with all that?” he gestures at the two levels of keys and then raise the bottle to his lips again because _he is making a fool of himself and he has to get a good enough reason to keep his fucking mouth shut._

 

Niall gives him a strange look. “What’s up with… the organ?” And yeah, it sounds even more stupid the second time around so instead of actually opening his mouth to let any sort of buffoonery out, he decides to play safe and shrug. “Well,” he drawls, “the organ is a keyboard instrument,” he pronounces each word really slowly and Zayn blushes when he realises he is being made fun of.

 

“Alright, alright, stop that,” he chuckles, then clears his throat. “I meant, what’s up with you and that marvelous keyboard instrument with tiny chimneys,” he explains.

 

“Those are pipes, _moron_ ,” he specifies but throws Zayn what seems like a fond look nonetheless. “My dad was the organ player of the church before,” he starts, his hand swiping away imaginary dust on the lower keyboard. “He taught me how to play from a very young age, in hopes of making me the next organ player of our church. I,” he stops, breathes in and continues, “I loved it as a kid. I loved to spend my time with the old man. But then, I grew up, went to school and I’d rather spend time with my friends than listen to another boring lesson about the stupid organ,” he shakes his head.

 

“He had a stroke last year,” he murmurs but rectifies when he sees the look of sympathy on Zayn’s face. “He survived! He survived, alright? Now wipe that look off your face right now or I swear…” he threatens him with a sideway glance but sends him a little grin that has Zayn’s stomach all upside down. Niall looks away then, “Anyway, he survived but he couldn’t play anymore so I offered to take over and here I am,” he finishes gesturing to the instrument.

 

Zayn wants to do something, anything, maybe reach out and hug him, or run his hand through his soft hair, hell, even just pat him awkwardly on the back would do. No, instead, he keeps his hands to himself but offers him a warm smile. “I’m sure he’s really proud of you.”

 

Niall smiles back, his smile sincere, not playful or sarcastic or fake, just a pretty smile and Zayn stares. He stares until it’s weird and he clears his throat in an attempt to look normal, which usually doesn’t work for him.

 

“What about you?” Niall asks him and Zayn blesses his soul for offering him an easy way out.

 

“What about me?” he asks back, unsure of what he is suppose to say.

 

“Well, what are you gonna do about that Ave Maria thing?” and that’s all it takes to get Zayn back into full panic mode, his heart racing up and his breath coming short.

 

He’s going to pass out.

 

He can’t do it.

 

He’ll have to give up on that solo. Bring dishonour on his family, on his c-

 

“Woah, don’t strain yourself out man, just breathe,” Niall urges him, a strong hand drawing soothing patterns on his back.

 

“I think I’m a little nervous,” Zayn admits with shaking hands and a shaky voice.

 

“No shit,” Niall mimics, using Zayn’s earlier words, his hand coming to rest on his shoulder once the other boy has calmed down. “You know what I did when I was really nervous for an organ recital?” he asks, his hand squeezing Zayn’s shoulder before lifting it up and putting it back on the lower keyboard.

Zayn shakes his head. Niall winks at him and his fingers move.

 

He begins to play a song that Zayn has definitely heard somewhere and very possibly hummed some time before but he can’t, for the love of god, put a name to this melody.

 

Niall plays gracefully though and Zayn is soon fascinated with the way his hands dance on the keys, going up and down the keyboards so easily, with a calm and enjoyment that Zayn envies a little. He stares unabashedly as his soul is being lifted up by the melody coming out of the pipes and by the look of bliss on the boy’s face.

 

Soon, Niall stops playing and Zayn wants to kiss him.

 

He doesn’t.

 

“In the Hall of the Mountain King,” Niall indicates. “Man, I love to play this song, it’s my favourite! Ever since I learned it, it became my safety blanket,” he confides. “Whenever I’m stressed about something, anything really, I sit at the organ and three minutes of pure bliss later, I’m always calmer and in a much better mood.”

 

Zayn stares. He really could kiss him.

 

Still, he doesn’t.

 

“What’s your safety blanket?” he turns his whole body towards Zayn, giving him his full attention and dedication and this is way too much. He doesn’t know. He never really thought about it. He can’t give him an answer, he doesn’t know but he also can’t _not_ give him an answer because he is looking at him with these expecting and kind blue eyes and Zayn tells him the first thing that pops into his mind before he can even stop to think about it.

 

“I’ve always liked ‘O Holy Night’,” Zayn admits and before he knows it, he recognizes the first few notes being played on the organ next to him.

 

He knows the lyrics and he knows his cue and without even realizing it, he starts singing in tune with Niall’s organ, the sound of voice confident and beautiful and everything that his rendition of ‘Ave Maria’ lacks. He sings without feeling stress or nauseated like he’s about to throw up and it seems like so long ago since he sang just for the hell of it and god, it feels amazing.

 

All through the song, his voice echoes in the church along with the sound of the old organ and his thigh is pressed up against Niall’s and he stares at the boy, even if it might be weird he can’t help it, because he sings, and he feels it from inside.

 

He doesn’t get to finish the song though because Niall is pressed up against him, and Zayn could just kiss him right now.

 

And that’s what he does. Between a breath and the next, his mouth his suddenly on Niall’s, tentative and shy at first, almost expecting to be shoved away, maybe get a fist in the face. But then, _miracle_ , Niall presses his lips with a little more force, a hand reaching for Zayn’s cheek, the other falling flat on the keyboard, the sound awful and loud but both boys are too gone to care. Zayn happily complies and opens his mouth when he feels Niall’s tongue trying to slip in, deepening the kiss as he goes. Zayn grabs for his waist, his grip tight and possessive, while Niall’s hand finally leave the organ to curl around Zayn’s bicep, trying to get even more in his personal space.

 

They break away from each other with pants and sighs, the sound sinful in the church and Niall eyes darken with lust, grinning at Zayn before he climbs in his lap, both hands on the sides of the choir boy’s face, bringing him closer for a second kiss but stops, just an inch away. “I wonder what other sounds I can draw out of that pretty mouth,” he murmurs and nibbles the underside of his jaw. “How did that sound go again? ‘Fall on your knees’?” he mumbles against Zayn’s skin as he grinds down on him. “Gives me a few ideas,” he whispers and sinks his teeth into the skin of Zayn’s neck, making the boy hiss and moan.

 

They grind some more, do a whole lot of kissing when they hear the sounds of footstep outside the big doors, on the pavement and stop abruptly.

 

“Shit, Father Sherman,” Zayn assumes and watch regretfully as Niall climbs down his lap.

He notices then that he’s hard and so is Niall and this is going to be a problem. Niall seems to notice as well because he chances one more kiss before wiggling his eyebrows. “Guess we’ll have to take this somewhere else, eh?” and Zayn giggles and really wants to kiss him again but Father Sherman is making its way in the church and it probably wouldn’t be a wise thing to do.

 

They grab their coats and bag and politely decline Father Sherman’s invitation for tea, thanking him for allowing them to rehearse in his church and are out of there in a flash.

 

The air is cold and the sky is dark despite being still early in the evening, con of winter  but the stars are bright and shining and they kiss and hold hands on the way home to keep themselves warm. (Survival, y’know?)

 

~

 

(“Zayn, that sounded much better! You’ll be ready for the Christmas recital in no time! Bet that extra hour of rehearsing really did you good, didn’t it?”

 

Zayn gazes at the boy at the organ, biting his cheek with a playful smirk on his face. “It sure did sir!” It sure did.)

 

fin

 

  
  
  
  



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